


I Need You (Because You are a Part of Me)

by ChlorineTriflouride



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/F, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Morning Sex, One Shot, POV Second Person, Selfcest, Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChlorineTriflouride/pseuds/ChlorineTriflouride
Summary: Sometimes things fall apart and can't be put back together. But that doesn't mean they cannot try.





	I Need You (Because You are a Part of Me)

It’s very bright when you wake up, blinking at the sunlight, very warm indeed in the middle of the bundle of blankets you collected last night from all the corners of the bed. It’s all cozy and snuggly, like a giant huggy burrito, with you at the middle. Candace didn’t seem amused by your announcement of that last night, though – she’d just crossed her arms and told you to take your burrito and stuff it up the back entrance – but you’re pretty sure it was just because she didn’t have any blankets herself – and still doesn’t, even.

You ought to fix that, and you do, rolling over and squirming your way up against her back. The burrito comes loose from around you when you do, but it’s totally worth it anyway. Plus now that your arms are free, you figure you might as well put one across her shoulder so that you can hug her.

The closer, the better, and you can’t help but grin broadly as you pull yourself closer, pressing your body as closely as you can against her back. You push your nose against her collarbone and giggle: it feels funny. You pull yourself closer – her bare skin is so cool compared to yours that it’s a bit like hugging a giant ice cube.

You wonder if she’ll melt, too, if you hug her tightly enough. (This is why she should’ve been in the burrito with you last night.)

She snorts abruptly, stirring her legs back and forth. One of her heels hits your shin.

“Candace, get _off_ of me,” she says, her voice a little gravelly with sleep. She doesn’t let you say anything back, though – just just pitches her arm up, flinging yours off as she rolls away from you. And sits up, glaring.

“Awwww...” you whine. “But I wanna hug!” You really do. You’re both in the bed, after all – what better way to spend the morning anyway?

“Don’t you have something better to do than torment me?” she grumbles. “I swear on all that is holy – and I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.”

You weren’t going to point that out – in your opinion, hugging is more fun without that anyway, but she gets out of bed anyway, leaving you by yourself.

“C’mon, let’s do something fun,” you say. “Something... something romantic?” Ooh, ooh, ooh – like breakfast in bed, that’s romantic, right? It is, yes. You would like that – but wait, who would make the food? Maybe you could? You… never tried cooking before, not really, but you’re sure you could figure it out for her if you tried.

“I’ll show you _romantic_ if you don’t quit pestering me!” she exclaims, stopping halfway through the process of getting some shirt out of the closet and turning around again. “I’ll wring your neck, I swear it!”

You giggle. “That would be fun.”

Candace’s face is starting to get red now. “No! No it would _not_ be – ugh, where is that triangular-headed brat when I need him?!” She sucks in a breath and is suddenly yelling at the top of her lungs. “ _PHINEAS_!”

“I’m pretty sure Phineas can’t hear you?” you offer, sitting up. The covers fall down to your waist – you’re already trying to figure out how you’re supposed to make some kind of romantic dinner this morning. You tried once before, but you’re pretty sure there wasn’t supposed to be _quite_ so much fire as that. It’s okay, though – you won’t do that again.

Candace is staring you, her fists clenching and unclenching. “I _know_ ,” she growls. “You don’t have to _explain_ these things to me, you – you airhead. You don’t know anything about anything anyway!”

You crawl over to her side of the bed and fling your legs over the edge, standing up in front of her. The two of you have always been exactly the same height anyway, so you can see directly into her eyes when you do it, and, _ooh_ , they are so blue, too. (You always notice this – it’s like you can’t help it. You are a romantic at heart, though.)

Her breath is hot on your face, and, purely on impulse that you don’t care to resist, you lean forwards and plant your lips on hers, staring into her eyes as you do – watching, how at first they widen, then narrow dramatically. It doesn’t matter, though: she doesn’t pull away from the kiss, and you like the feel of her warm lips against yours anyway.

“Pagh,” she says disgustedly when you pull away, grinning widely, because, well, it’s morning kisses – how romantic is that? And who couldn’t love them? “You call _that_ a kiss? We’re not teenagers anymore, you flake – at least take the time do these things _right_ , will you?”

“But I thought it was nice,” you say, ducking your head a little. It was nice, too – all soft and warm and gentle, like everything great about life is. “Do you want another?”

She makes some sort of grunt or something. “I’ll show you ‘another’, you airhead. All your prattle and you don’t even know how to kiss.” She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you suddenly, sending you tumbling back into the bed. You land on your back, unharmed, of course, sending at least one pillow flying off somewhere. In a single motion, she practically jumps onto the bed, straddling you, knees on either side of your chest, her hands landing on your breasts.

Glowering triumphantly, she gives each one a squeeze, casually ignoring your squirming beneath her body weight. “Let me _show_ you, Miss _Romance_ , how it is supposed to _work_.” She leans down, and you barely have time to pucker before her lips are against yours again – you feel your eyes widen in their turn, too, as she shoves her tongue roughly through your lips and into your mouth.

There’s a muffled explanation of surprise you make as it runs against your palate, casually tickling against it, rubbing across your own tongue in the process. Candace’s eyes are very nearly slits, and she squeezes your breasts again, too. You really can’t help it, either, when a shiver runs through your spine and forces a weak moan up your throat – one that is nearly entirely lost into Candace’s mouth still practically glued against yours, her tongue exploring into the corners and crannies there, farther back than you thought she could surely reach. There’s the taste of morning breath gunk lurking there, but it’s bearable.

You close your eyes, moaning softly into her mouth as she fondles your breasts, relaxing into the weight bearing down on top of you – the warmth of her lips against yours, the way her fingers play with your nipples, the way her weight rests on top of your stomach and her knees pin your arms down to the bed.

She pinches one of your nipples, and you yelp into her mouth as she grips it, twisting firmly. You wriggle beneath her at the pain, and she scrunches her eyebrows, shoving her tongue deeper into your mouth as you whimper. Then your other nipple, too, twisting in the opposite direction, her fingers unforgiving as they curl around, the pain mounting as she continues to pull. She huffs a steam-cloud of warm breath out her nose at your muffled groaning.

It’s over as suddenly as it started – she sits up straighter, not letting you have your arms back, but taking her mouth away from yours and unceremoniously letting your twisted nipples go, crossing her arms across her chest as she glares down at you..

You whine at the stop, attempting to lift yourself towards her, but she only rocks back on your stomach and looks disdainful. “I have to do everything myself, I swear.”

“Why stop?” you complain, sticking out your lower lip, and she rolls her eyes. You like it when _she_ kisses you – she always pushes so deep it’s like you’re more one person instead of two.

“Because _unlike_ you, I actually have things to do,” she snarls. “I don’t just coast on my… whatever you coast on. _I_ have find Phineas and _I_ have to make sure he’s not up to anything irresponsible and I _swear_ I’m going to grab ahold of him and-”

“But wouldn’t you rather stay with me?” you giggle. Keeping your head lifted up towards her proves too exhausting, and you collapse back into the bed, smiling. “I’m here. We could do something _romantic_ , you know? You can grab ahold of me instead, maybe?”

She snorts. “You disgust me, you lazy, shiftless… you. I swear.”

You smile. “But I love you.”

Her face contorts for a moment, her hands suddenly lurching from their folded position, her fingers latching onto your nipples again, pinching tightly. You squeak as she twists farther and farther, her fingernails digging into your sensitive skin, the pain streaking through your body. Something akin to a smile spreads wide across her face, her eyes glinting as you unconsciously arch your back as well as possible with her sitting on you.

“You’re so _annoying,_ ” she grits out, twisting farther and farther. “I have things to _do_ , but no, here I am instead, having to deal with this because my lifelong _goals_ need a competitor for time spent on them! How, I ask you, how is this _fair_?!” You bit your lip and still whimper through it, the pain racketing around in your brain making it even more difficult to think straight. There is, too, that feeling gathering in your pelvic area as you struggle. It doesn’t help – she’s much stronger than you are, and there’s nowhere to _go_ anyway.

The cessation of sensation when she lets go is almost as painful as the twisting itself was, and you gasp for breath, blood rushing to your face and heating your cheeks.

“Get up,” she snarks, crawling off you. Your heart sinks for a moment, thinking she’s done, but though she crawls off, she doesn’t get off the _bed_ , only going so far as to hang her legs over the side. And she puts her hand on your upper arm and pulls you toward her irresistibly as you sit up, pushing you down across her knees and sliding her grip down to your wrists – grabbing both of them with one hand, even, holding them behind your back.

Her knees are cool under your stomach, and there’s a part of you that’s just happy at the touch because it feels _right_ and that’s how you know you’re in love, right? You blow some of your hair out of your face, but it falls right back.

“Lie still, you airhead,” she grumbles. “Or else I’m gonna go get the strap-on I use on Phineas and you _really_ aren’t gonna like that.” Winding her other arm back, she lands a stinging smack squarely on your bare bottom. You yelp, flinching reflexively as pain shoots through you, and she snorts in a vaguely derisive manner. “Are you _enjoying_ yourself yet?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nod, twisting around to look back at her as well as you can. It’s… well, it’s a natural feeling, a calming one, to be close to her like this. She calls it ‘taking you well in hand’. She does always have lots of stuff to do, apparently – you really just like to stop and smell flowers sometimes (or all the time), but only every now and then can you convince _her_ of that, too. Most of the time she just does what she’s gonna do, and you don’t really have a way of _stopping_ that – and then there’s when she ‘takes you well in hand’.

Like now, you’re suddenly reminded, as she spanks you again, the smacking echoing through your bedroom, again and again, as you squirm about on her knees, whimpering at the hot pain left behind from her hand, but also growing wet as you pull uselessly against the impossibly vice-like grip on your wrists.

You moan encouragingly for her to continue – not that she probably needed it – your heart beating faster as she spanks, again and again, each one growing successively harder than the last. The pain is intense, but it’s Candace behind it, and you don’t want her to stop, either, and in lack of the ability to form coherent words, you relax into the spanking and let yourself whimper at each blow.

You know she likes that.

“Why – won’t – you – just – leave – me – be?” she grunts out, punctuating each word with another note in the staccato. Involuntary tears are gathering at your eyelashes, and you cry out unintelligibly as she continues. You want to stay still for her, but you can’t quite overcome all of your body’s natural reflexes, the way you flinch at every smack, the sounds that leak from the back of your throat. “I – have – stuff – I – wanna – do – but – _no_!”

She’s grunting more intensely now, as if her life depends on the force with which she can spank you (and maybe it does), and you can feel and hear her chest heaving right next to you as she grunts through teeth that you know are grit and unyieldingly keeps her grip on your wrists, effortlessly smothering your squirming as you reflexively twitch, your eyes squeezing shut and your muscles involuntarily clenching at the pain. Each blow from her hand ignites another wave of it that courses through your system and crashes violently into your brain.

This is right, she’s you, and you’re her, and you’re _one_ , and it hurts so badly but it can’t _stop_ , not now, because it burns and burns with a fire that you simply don’t possess inside of you, and you _know_ that, a fire that forever burns inside Candace’s heart, one that you’ll never be able to match or capture, but that you can still feel sparks of – that you can draw near and experience the heat in all it’s painful ecstasy as she holds you down and spanks you.

You bite you lip, your body quivering in the mixture of emotion both so contradictory and somehow also inseparable. Candace’s brow is damp with sweat, and she pants heavily as the last blow falls on your rear.

“Come _here_ ,” she grunts, her voice husky. You’re hurting all over but your mind is clear and you’ve never felt so _alive_. Your thoughts are smoother and flow more orderly than they ever do, and for the briefest of seconds, an image flashes in front of your eyes – the image of Candace, of you, of her, of the both of you, somehow _one_ in a way even beyond this – one in _every_ sense, with both you and her bundled up together, and it’s gone before you can even fully grasp what it means.

You don’t know what it means, but you know that you and Candace are _meant_ to be together, and it’s the times like this that you know that more strongly than any other, more strongly than you know anything else at all.

Candace’s cheeks are flushed as she rolls you over and pushes you off her knees and back onto the rest of the bed. She turns around – her teeth are grit and her brow is a little damp. It’s practically a lunge, the way she pounces on top of you, shoving one hand down between your legs, effortlessly moving them out of the way like they’re made of tissue paper. A quiver rips its way through your spine, your entire body convulsing at the touch.

She’s all on top of you, her hot breath in your face, her eyes burning with an intensity that melts through to your very soul. Her tongue flicks out against your lips, and you open your mouth wide almost on instinct, moaning into her mouth as she slams down on top of you, pushing her tongue deep into your mouth, her fingers still between your legs as she pushes her entire body against yours. You can smell her sweat and faintly taste her toothpaste as she swirls her tongue around and around yours – you arch your back on instinct, pushing your chest into hers as you tremble. You grab two handfuls of bedsheet, feeling her heartbeat against your own chest, the rate at which it’s pounding, feeling her fingers leaving no place between your legs sacred, the sparks she’s casting bursting into a raging flame within you.

You scream into her mouth, your entire body exploding into red-hot fire that pools in your gut, the world around melting at the sheer heat, your heart feeling a bit like it might tear from your chest at any moment. Arching until you can arch no farther, you release the sheets and throw your arms around her, feeling the slickness of her sweat, the rippling of her muscles and the thundering of her own heart – the smoldering of the fire burning within her as you cling to her, dragging her down on top you, shivering all over.

You moan.

There’s hair in your face, but you don’t care. She pulls her mouth away from yours only slightly, sucking your lower lip into her mouth and tugging as she shifts in your convulsing hold, bringing up both her hands and putting one on either side of your face, holding your head still as she kisses you, hard, staring directly at you with those wide-open, fiery hot eyes. You can still feel the dampness of your juices on her one hand as she clings to you with an intensity that seems to never weaken. The world seems less important, really – all you know is _her_ , Candace, and the way she sucks on your tongue, rubbing her own over it as if to claim ownership.

It’s a claim you’re more than willing to submit to – she can have it – she can have _you_. She _is_ you, and you’re her, and as you press your thudding chest against her sweat-slicked own, you’ve never felt closer. Never closer to the one for whom no degree of closeness can be too close.

She half-rolls over on the bed, dragging you with her, at last pulling her mouth away from yours, her face contorted in a pleased yet somehow also a bit disdainful of a manner. She runs one hand down your back, her fingernails tracing a pattern along your spine. You tremble at the touch, and she reaches your butt and gives it a firm squeeze on the lingering redness. You wince, she half-grins.

“Are you _satisfied_?” she half spits, tiny bits of her saliva still spattering on your face. “You always were the one who got what you wanted anyway. It was only ever me who could never be happy – only ever I can’t get what _I_ want.”

She pushes herself up off the bed, away from you, but you reach up and wrap your arms more tightly around her.

“Candace,” you whine. “I love you.”

“I know,” she retorts. “Doesn’t mean _I_ ever get anything out of it.”

“Shhhhh,” you whisper, blowing the air softly into her face. “Shhhhh.” You pull her down, rolling with her all the way over until she’s the one beneath you, her sweaty body still heaving from her exertion. You smile softly, warmly, drawing her hands up above her head into a thin, muscular line. There’s a loose pillowcase there, and you grab ahold of it and slide it the rest of the way off from the pillow.

Candace’s eyes flash warningly at you as you gently wrap the cloth-turned-rope around her wrists and pull the simple knot snug to the best of your ability. You put a hand over heart, feeling the steady rhythm thumping there, staring into the deep blueness of her eyes.

“I love you,” you repeat, leaning down and brushing your lips against hers, trailing soft kisses down her cheek, all the way to her neck, splaying out along her collarbone. You can taste the saltiness on her bare skin, the way her chest is heaving beneath you. Her breaths are heavy and gradually slow as you creep down her body, gently but surely, until you reach her breasts. The musky smell of her sweat lingers thickly in your nose as you kiss her, pressing your lips against her nipples and tickling them with your tongue.

“Are you done?” she snarks.

You look up at her. “Do you want me to be done?”

For a moment there’s silence, and you see her flexing her wrists against the pillowcase they’re bound with. You’ve never been great with knots; it’s more of a suggestion than actual entrapment, but Candace lies still for you and there’s something about the knowledge that you’re the only one capable of restraining the fire within her that does your heart good. “No.”

You smile happily and reach up to press a finger against her lips. “Then shhhhhh. It’s gonna be okay.” You climb back up to her face and hover your face just fractions of an inch above hers. “You’re so pretty.”

“Am I, though?” she retorts.

“Let me be the judge of that.” You stick out your tongue and lick her lips, tracing around them with the tip of your tongue. She cranes her head upwards slightly and pokes her own tongue out, but you use a finger to push it back inside her mouth. She resists for a moment, but relaxes, and you brush her hair out of her face and kiss her on the cheek.

“You’re really strong, too.” You slide down her body again, running your hands over her shoulders and chest, feeling the firmness of the muscle just beneath. Her heart is beating more slowly now, and her chest moves up and down steadily beneath you. You reach up and feel one of her arms, squeezing the taut muscle between your fingers. “Really strong. You could probably pick me straight up, couldn’t you?”

She could, she can, she does it all the time.

She grunts.

You kiss her leftmost nipple again, the right. Silence reigns, except for the sound of your sucking. Her back arches upwards a little, and you slide farther down her body, down her stomach, trailing kisses all the way. “I guess you really are just trying to protect us,” you murmur, dipping your tongue into her belly button.

You’re rewarded with a first mild shiver as she nods. “Of course I am. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Mmm hmm.” Your lips move down her pelvic area and you push her legs apart. She’s already wet, and you kneel down closer. “You deserve to be treated well,” you muse aloud. “Look at everything you do.”

“I know,” she responds. Your face is even closer now and you delve your tongue inside her, interrupting the rest of her words as she suddenly quivers and moans softly. It’s not a sound she makes easily, but it’s the weakest, most quavering sound you’ll ever hear from her, and somehow it just makes you want to squeeze her to you even more tightly than you already do when she’ll let you. Instead you push your face closer, eating her out as hungrily as you feel for her as a whole.

She moans again, the smell of her juices clouding up your nose as you flick your tongue in and out. It’s not even a choice, nor an obligation, but a given. You aren’t two separate people as much as you are one, and it’s the times like these that’s most evident, when you can put your hands on her thighs and feel her shivering, vibrations from her moans ratcheting through her body telling you everything about her you could possibly need to know. Bridging that impassible gap that is your separate selves, for one timeless moment, reuniting your fragmented mind into a whole that basks in happy unity.

A powerful convulsion suddenly pulses through Candace’s body, and before you have even a second to react, she’s cumming, the liquids splattering onto your face while she groans. You’d go to move your head back, but she’s moved her legs overtop of your shoulders, holding you in place with more strength than you could resist, if you even cared to. You submit, lapping at her wetness.

The fuzziness in your mind is fading. Maybe it’s the fuzziness coming back, you can’t tell. Candace is still there, of course, but she’s more calm now, and somehow you can’t … _feel_ her quite as strongly. You can’t tell if that’s good or not, not really. But she’s still _there_ , you can feel that, at least, and she’s holding you down more gently now, and you squirm out from beneath her, pulling yourself up next to her.

She’s breathing less heavily now, and her eyes are half-closed as she stares up at the roof. You put your hand over her heart, feeling the beat, pushing yourself into her side and wrapping yourself around her. Her arms are still tied up above her head, and you can’t help but nuzzle into her upper arm. She flinches a little, maybe, but doesn’t move.

“I love you,” you whisper. She’s sticky from sweat and your face is caked in her juice, and the whole room smells of her body so strongly that you can almost feel it. You don’t care. You love everyone, really, you’ve never met anyone you didn’t like, but it’s different with Candace somehow.

She moves, drawing her bound wrists down to her chest and rolling onto her side. It’s an open invitation if you’ve ever seen one, and you snuggle up to her back, hugging her from behind as she lies calmly, pressing your bare skin against her own and you wish that this moment never had to end.

Her breathing grows steadier, more regular. You wonder if she’s asleep as you slowly trace your fingers down her arm, from her shoulder to elbow to where it’s tied to the other wrist.

It doesn’t matter, really. You’re together, the way that… you feel is right. It makes your _own_ heart beat more gently with slow comprehension. But the comprehension, it _does_ come eventually. And though you may not understand much, you know that the naked woman in your arms is as much a part of you as your own body. Maybe even more so.

You’ve never loved anyone or anything so strongly in your life, and you love everything. You love everything, but Candace… you _need_ her. It’s just not the same otherwise. For better or for worse, the heart that beats in the body pressed against yours is inextricably linked to your own. You can _feel_ her, sometimes. You’re sure there’s times when she can feel you, too.

For right now, though, none of that really matters. You close your eyes and press your face against the back of her neck, warm and happy and loved. You may not be the smartest person around, but she needs you. She _wants_ you. She _is_ you.

What’s not to love?


End file.
